Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
WILL
Day Three
‘Alice, you don’t understand, he was hard,’ I whisper, as I hide under the deck of the ship as we sail from the island. ‘Like, his dick was hard. And it touched mine. And I was—’
‘Hard?’ Alice asks. ‘Oh, what a hard life. Two hot guys being hard together, having hard times, with hard dicks.’
‘Alice, please be serious.’ Even on a call, Alice can give me that look that makes everything less complicated. ‘This is Sam we’re talking about. Sam. Not Ollie.’
‘I know.’
‘Don’t give me that tone.’
‘What tone?’
‘That tone you do,’ I say. ‘Like you know everything and I don’t.’
‘That’s just how we work. Was he big?’
‘Alice.’
‘Okay, okay, where is he now?’
I glance around the small bedroom, which smells of cheap aftershave, reminding me of gym locker rooms. You know, that one time I’ve actually gone to the gym. There’s a high probability I’m not meant to be in here, judging by the judgemental stare of a polystyrene parrot perched on a table.
‘He’s upstairs.’
‘Okay, and what happened after you were … you know.’
After the gay peacocks, Sam strolled out of the water, his back to me. When he faced me, he looked me up and down. It’s like he knew the hold he had over me at that moment. He readjusted himself, his hands dipping below the waistband of his shorts, never breaking my gaze.
But whatever transpired between us in the ocean, on the island, was lost as soon as we got back on the boat.
‘Everything was fine,’ I say. ‘Same old Sam.’
‘Is it possible that a fish swam between your crotches and you both just felt a fish?’
I shake my head, leaning against the wall. ‘Oh, you know what? That’s perfectly logical, isn’t it?’
‘Chill, Will. You’re on holiday. He’s not forever, is he? You’re single. For now. Why not just see what happens?’
‘But it’s Sam.’
‘You’ve never been one to relax,’ Alice says. ‘So, relax. Have fun. Enjoy your time there. Soak up the sun. Forget about us. Enjoy the wedding. Enjoy Sam.’
‘Alice.’
‘You’re the one thinking I meant sexually.’ Alice flutters her eyelashes innocently. I stare down the lens. ‘But yes, I did.’
‘You’re awful.’
‘And you’re melodramatic,’ Alice counters. ‘Chill, Will.’
Chill Will. That’s who I need to be.
Returning on the deck, Sam’s face lights up.
‘All okay?’
‘Yes, definitely,’ I say. ‘Chill.’
‘Argh, ye have returned!’ one pirate exclaims. ‘We sail back to land, but ye have one more task to face.’
Everyone gathers around the pirates. Everyone except Martha. Where is she?
‘Ye golden feather has been obtained, but it comes with a price.’
Shit. I forgot all about the golden feather. Apparently, there was a whole temple at the top of the mountain that we both missed, too.
Linen Shirt holds a golden feather in his hand.
A laugh that would never win an Oscar comes from the stairwell, and a white ghoulish face appears, black teeth bared at the small crowd.
‘It be Davy Jones’s wife,’ cry the pirates.
A small splattering of applause breaks out from Martha’s friends, who aren’t concerned that she’s missing. I eye the ocean hesitantly as if she might be swimming behind us trying to catch the boat.
‘Aye, that be right. I am Sadie Jones, and I have a prisoner in my locker.’ The woman who has been our waitress jests. ‘Ye have been here too long, and ye must pay a bounty.’
Land appears in the distance. Sweet, sweet, bustling land, with all its white buildings and Parthenon and history.
‘Help me, help me.’ From behind Sadie Jones comes Martha.
My mouth drops. Seaweed holds her hands together like handcuffs, and she trails behind Sadie like a prisoner.
But despite all this, she giggles, giving a performance that makes the rest of us laugh.
‘Oh, pay the golden feather and let me go.’
‘What the hell?’
‘That be right,’ Sadie calls. ‘Martha here be my prisoner. If ye golden feather does not touch my hand by the time we dock, she be dead.’
‘Oh, cruel world,’ Martha wails.
‘She was in on this the whole time?’ I gasp. Her friends laugh.
‘In on what, landlubber?’ Sadie hisses, her eyes wide. ‘This be true life.’
‘Oh, set me free, set me free.’ Martha cries.
Linen Shirt holds out his hand, clutching the golden feather which glints in the sun.
Sadie Jones dances across the deck, kicking and spinning as she does so. Martha stops laughing, stumbling behind.
‘Ye have gifted me the golden feather,’ Sadie Jones says. ‘Ye are free.’
The boat comes to land, alongside all the other, more civilised ones. But none of us care. Our cheers ring out as pirate music blasts from the speakers, and I hand a generous tip to the pirates and Sadie as I disembark.
Sam’s hand rests on my shoulder. ‘That was fun.’
Is that sea legs I’ve got or is Sam making me weak? ‘So fun.’
We catch the tram back into the city, and once we’re back in familiar terrain we head towards the coffee shop. Sam falls into step beside me, his fingers brushing mine lightly enough to be almost accidental.
‘Have you texted Ollie?’
‘About the double date?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I wasn’t sure if that was just a whim decision we’d made.’
This morning feels like so long ago. Sitting in the coffee shop, talking about couple pet names and fake double dates like they meant something. Before we felt each other in the sea.
Or felt a fish.
Undecided on that front.
‘I don’t mind,’ Sam says. ‘Truly.’
Cars with their roofs down cruise by, music playing and filling the streets. We weave around people milling in shops, the scents of coffee, wine, beer and sweet treats enticing us. Sweat prickles across my forehead, as businesses wrap up for the day. But it’s not just from the heat.
Double-dating with Ollie was a good idea this morning. Now, I’m not so sure. Do I want to involve myself in his wedding more than I have to? Is it fair to drag Sam into my mess? Mess that I’m creating for myself?
Perhaps it’s the holiday clarity, the type you get only when you go somewhere new and realise you want to change your whole life, but trying to impress Ollie seems so … juvenile.
And yet, I’m here now. He wants to be friends. Is it a wasted trip if I don’t see him?
With shaking hands, I text Ollie.
Hey. Do you and Alec want to double date? No worries if not, just thought I’d ask.
Ellipses type, and I chew my lip, feet slowing down. Until finally he replies.
Sure. Pretty busy with wedding prep, but sure.
He’s sure.
‘He said yes, not sure when, but yes. Is that okay?’
Sam nods, but doesn’t smile, and it literally feels like standing on a dog’s tail by accident.
‘Are you okay with doing this?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘It’s not weird?’
‘I was the one that got you into this fake-dating thing,’ Sam says. ‘Let’s give them a show.’